


Three One-Thousand

by daringlybelieving



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Prompt Fic, Romance, Storms, Thunder and Lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-15
Updated: 2012-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 16:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daringlybelieving/pseuds/daringlybelieving
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrea doesn't like storms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three One-Thousand

**Author's Note:**

> Written for eatallthecheese who left a prompt on the daryl_andrea community over on livejournal.

The dark room was briefly illuminated by a dim, but noticeable flash of light. Andrea curled herself into a ball and pulled her sleeping bag further over the top of her head. Outside, she could hear the rain thrashing and the wind howling so fiercely she was certain she could hear the glass panes in the windows of her makeshift bedroom rattling in their frames. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed and covered her ears with her hands in an attempt to mute the loud rumbling boom of thunder.

As the thunder died away, she released a breath she hadn’t even known she’d been holding and pulled the sleeping bag away from her face, just enough for her to be able to glance around the room, anxiously waiting for the telltale flash that would signal the next bout of thunder.

She sighed quietly to herself. If Amy were still alive, Andrea knew that she would be laughing at her, telling her that it was just a noise, nothing to be afraid of. Amy had always loved thunderstorms.

She startled when she heard a loud cough come from somewhere behind her, out of her field of vision. She hadn’t even known that there was someone else in the room with her. She rolled over in her bag and squinted in the darkness until she managed to make out a dark silhouette leaning against the back wall, gaze fixed out of the window.

Daryl’s face became briefly visible and Andrea felt herself momentarily relax at the realisation of who was standing in the corner not too far from her before she registered that she could only see who it was because of the lightning. She wormed her way fully back underneath the sleeping bag, stuffed her fingers back into her ears and waited.

“One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand, four one-thousand,” she mumbled to herself, a whimper cutting her off at the sound of the thunder rolling over. She shivered lightly as it faded away again and pulled her fingers out of her ears, only to hear the sound of stifled chuckling.

Andrea sat up quickly and turned to glare in Daryl’s general direction. “What?” she demanded to the shadow in the corner, barely able to make out the movement of his shrug in the darkness.

“Nothin’” she heard him mutter, “Jus’ that, yer scared of a noise.” She caught the amusement that laced his voiced and huffed indignantly.

“I am not!” she replied stubbornly, even as she flinched when lightning lit up the room again.

“Course not. Yer jus’ shakin’ and whimperin’ in that sleepin’ bag whenever it thunders ‘cause you feel like it.” The hint of amusement his voice previously held had been replaced with smugness. Bastard.

She jumped as the thunder crashed so loud she was certain it came from right above the little house the group had holed themselves up in for the past few days while they waited for the worst of the bad weather to pass. They knew they couldn’t stay there forever; there just wasn’t enough room for all of them and it looked like it had been abandoned for years before the end of the world.

“Yes y’are.” He retorted, walking over to where she was camped out on the hard wooden floor of what would have been a small living room, that’s if there had been any furniture in the house when they arrived. He crouched down beside her, close enough that she could almost see him clearly in the dark.

Andrea turned her gaze to her lap and fiddled with the hem of her shirt, “I’m not scared, I just hate thunderstorms,” she answered quietly, earning a snort from Daryl.

“I seen you surrounded by walkers an’ you ain’t ever been scared,” he said in an almost-whisper, “Why’re you scared o’ somethin’ that can’t even hurt you?”

Andrea gave him a tiny shrug and tugged at a thread she had loosened on her shirt, “I’ve always hated them, ever since I was a kid.” She mumbled, not quite sure why she was telling Daryl anything.

He made a small grunt and shifted until he was sat fully on the floor beside her. “Ain’t nothin’ to be ‘fraid of. Merle locked me outta the house all night one time when I was a kid,” he paused and looked at her, “biggest thunderstorm I ever saw that night, bigger than this one.”

Andrea lifted her head and smiled sympathetically even though she wasn’t sure he could see her. Her smile faded at another flash of lightning, bigger than any of the previous ones. She could feel herself trembling during the thunder that followed a few seconds later, and by the way Daryl was looking at her, she was sure that he could see it too.

“Hey, ‘s’okay,” she jumped at the feeling of his rough, calloused hand touching hers and was surprised when he scooted closer, “I usta be ‘fraid of storms too.”

Andrea brushed her hair out of her face and stared at him, “Really?” she asked somewhat sceptically. She couldn’t imagine Daryl Dixon being scared of anything. He didn’t reply but she could just make out his head nodding in confirmation. “How’d you get over that fear?” she asked curiously.

Daryl shrugged, “Learned t’ ignore ‘em.”

Andrea snorted, “Oh yeah? How?” 

“Next time you see the lightnin’, close yer eyes and count the seconds.” He answered simply.

She arched an eyebrow and scoffed, “That’s it?” she asked incredulously, “That’s the great Dixon secret? That’s what I’ve been doing!”

“No dumbass, jus’ do it.” Her eyebrow crept higher into her hairline but she didn’t reply. The pair sat in silence as they waited for the next bolt of lightning, the only sound coming from the pouring rain and rushing wind outside. As the minutes passed, Andrea felt herself beginning to hope that the worst part of the storm, for her at least, was over.

Bit it didn’t last. She groaned aloud at the sudden illumination of the room, but closed her eyes and began to count.

“One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thou-” this time she was cut off by the feeling of Daryl’s lips pressing roughly against her own. She stiffened in shock while her brain seemed to stop functioning, processing nothing other than the surprising softness of his lips. 

Somewhere in the back of her mind she registered the feeling of his fingers in her hair and began to relax into the kiss, returning it slowly as he gently pulled her closer. He was treating her with a gentleness she hadn’t even known he’d possessed, one that she couldn’t even imagine existed beneath that rough and tumble exterior.

She almost pulled back when she realised she had allowed him to deepen the kiss, her mind was so blissfully blank that she couldn’t pinpoint at what point that had happened, or when she had managed to unbutton the top three buttons of his checked sleeveless shirt.

She made a small noise of protest when he broke away and smirked at her. Andrea could only imagine the dazed, far-away expression that would be on her face after that far too brief experience.

“Well?” he asked her.

Andrea blinked, barely registering he had spoken to her, “What?”

Daryl snorted, “Y’ still scared?”

Andrea blinked again and glanced towards one of the windows. The rain was the still coming down hard and the wind was still roaring, but she had completely forgotten about the thunder and lightning. And that annoyed her.

“Shut up.”


End file.
